The Christmas Shoes
by IWriteSinsNoTragedies
Summary: One fateful Christmas Eve at a local mall would be one Mr. Robinson would surely never forget. (Loosely based on the song/film of the same name)


_**AN**_ : Due to the success of my previous Gumball fic, I'm back with a Christmas tale to tell, and it's a long one. So, just sit back, and get comfortable as I retell the story of a young boy who wanted to get a pair of shoes for his ailing mother. Warning: you may need tissues.

(For added affect, I suggest listening to the song of the same name as you read)

* * *

 _December 24th, 2015_

Gaylord Robinson stood in line with an impatient scowl, he had better things to do than wait in line all Christmas Eve. He didn't know why he came to the mall; it was always packed with the residents of Elmore, and being the day before Christmas didn't make things any easier. Mr. Robinson would have much rather enjoyed sitting on his sofa at home, hating the world and everything in it. You see, Gaylord Robinson never did like Christmas; what was a day of celebration and love was nothing more than a commercial racket to him. Of course, Margaret didn't care and insisted he get her a gift, and no amount of protesting was going to change her mind.

So, here he was waiting for infinity to purchase a necklace he had found to please her, not at all in the Christmas spirit. The carols playing throughout the mall only deepened his frown; their cheery upbeat lyrics and music made him want to scream and rant like he would always do when this stupid world angered him. Of course, this would only delay his wait and further agitate the already infuriated customers. He pursed his lips in a tight line, his eyebrows lowering as the music entered his ears, as did the noticeable wrinkles across his forehead.

His eyes wandered down the long curved line hidden behind his thick, square framed glasses. It seemed every resident of Elmore was here; some he knew, others he didn't, nor cared to know. One of those residents happened to be Mr. Fitzgerald; his large, burly arms were folded over his chest indicating his thinning patience, accompanied by a sour frown. His wife was poised at his side, shaking her head at the commercialism of the holiday, a pile of assorted presents cradled delicately in her feminine arms.

Mr. Robinson chuckled, at least he wasn't that far back. He turned his focus to the beginning of the line up. In front of him Mr. Small stood in his place as calm as ever compared to everyone else; his eccentric smile never wearing. Felicity stood a few people in front of him, her son Billy was beside her holding her hand. The child inquisitively looked up at the orange woman.

"Mother, are we almost there?"

Though vexed beyond belief with the slow service Felicity managed to force a smile down at her son. "Not yet, sweetie" she answered tiredly in her soft, timid voice. "If the cashier would hurry up we would be out of here by now!" she shouted, her voice projecting down the chain.

Larry sighed as the brazen woman's vocals went in through one ear, and out the other. He hurried to scan all of the items each person placed in front of him so the line would dwindle, and he would avoid his manager's wrath. The customers were getting antsy, that he was sure of; their shouts of disapproval and impatience where aimed directly at the overworked employee. Laurence held a hand to his large rock head, feeling a migraine coming on. It was just an ordinary Christmas Eve in the amazing world of Elmore.

Mr. Robinson stuffed his gloved hand into the pocket of his jacket, the other remaining limp at his side, clutching the flat box with the necklace inside. It wasn't anything fancy, only a plain sliver chain with a gem attached, just something to quiet her incessant griping. As a song about Santa Claus started to play he heard the soft padding of footsteps from behind, the old puppet turned around. At the back of the line someone joined, someone he knew all too well. He could make out the odd shaped head and blue ears anywhere; it was Gumball Watterson.

The feline didn't seem to notice him, or anyone for that matter; his black dotted eyes were fixed on a box he held. The box Mr. Robinson saw, shook in his tremulous hands- whether it was from the cold or not Mr. Robinson couldn't tell. What he did know was it was frightfully cold outside and he didn't have a pair of gloves to keep his hands warm unlike himself and everyone else in the mall.

The old puppet sized up the young boy; his face was dirty, his jacket was partially closed; unable to go further than his stomach due to the broken zipper. His beige sweater was stained and tattered, a three inch rip ran down the left arm just below his shoulder; from the look of it someone had tried to stitch it back together, though poorly done. The large loopy stitches were dark, easily noticeable against the red jacket, and were separated at different intervals. The thread dangled from the still open hole- which wasn't even in the slightest closed; exposing his blue fur to the harsh elements. He wasn't wearing a scarf or boots either, it seemed in his haste he had forgotten them.

The wide smile Gumball always wore on his face was gone, a frown in its place. His fingers tapped against the sides of the box anxiously, it seemed he was in quite the hurry. Mr. Robinson also noticed that the feline's ears had wilted; frostbite crowding the tips, along with his fingers and toes. He was shivering, coughing and sneezing into his sleeve from the winter chill that blew through the doors every time someone entered and exited- he wouldn't dare remove a hand from the box. At this rate Mr. Robinson knew he would contract pneumonia by the time the night was out.

The customers around him recoiled in revolt and disgust. Gumball was determined though, he ignored their quiet murmurs and strange looks, even the goosebumps tingling in his arms and legs. His sight was set on the rectangular box he grasped protectively as if it were a fragile ornament- and maybe it was.

Mr. Robinson swiftly turned away, fearing he would see him and thus would begin a long and painful prodding of questions. He looked ahead, hoping the long chain had shortened, unfortunately it still hadn't moved, or so it seemed to his aging eyes. Rather than let his frustration and mounting anger over the long wait to purchase a simple item heat his blood Mr. Robinson decided to focus on other things; the irritable music blaring from the speakers, the chatter of the customers...

His mind was drawn back to the box, even someone as stuck up and bitter as Gaylord Robinson wasn't immune to curiosity, and much like anyone else he wondered what was inside. Upon instant he came to the conclusion that it was something utterly useless that only children enjoyed; probably a game or something. Although it seemed unlikely Gumball would risk his health over a game or something silly, even he wouldn't be that stupid. He leaned his torso forward attempting to get a clearer view, from his position in the lineup he caught a glimpse of the parcel; it didn't look like the sort of box that would hold a simple disc. No, in fact it looked more like a box of shoes.

 _He probably needs them_ , he thought bitterly with a glance at the boy's bare feet; a darker blue than usual.

He turned back to the line, it still hadn't moved. "Oh come on, it'll be 2017 by the time I get out of here" he sighed in exasperation, and pushed his square framed glasses up his forehead.

"Margaret's going to have my head."

Mr. Robinson adjusted his glasses and allowed his wandering gaze to meander down through the line, landing once again on his annoying neighbor. Gumball continued staring intently at the box as if it held the answer to all of life's problems. Now that he was paying attention Mr. Robinson noticed something he hadn't before; the box was pink, they must have been ladies shoes.

"They must be for his mother," he thought on impulse.

Mr. Robinson thought about confronting Gumball about his appearance and the gift he held, but in the end decided against it. For one thing he didn't want to lose his place in line and end up waiting another hour. And another, he just didn't want to deal with the boy's hyperactive attitude at the moment, although he seemed anything but.

"Sir, can I help you?" A voice spoke, interrupting his train of thought.

He whipped his head towards the speaker, almost having forgotten the reason he was there. Larry stood patiently, his hands folded on top of the counter with a masked smile. Mr. Robinson blinked, was it his turn already? He hadn't realized how much time he spent staring at the little blue feline. He moved to step forward and pay for his item when suddenly someone else darted past and took his place.

"Hey! I was here first" he cried in protest.

The intruder faced him, and Mr. Robinson realized it was none other than Gumball. His small frame was hunched over the box he carried as his chest heaved with frantic pants.

"S-sorry, Mr. Robinson" the preteen wheezed. "I'm in a hurry."

Mr. Robinson opened his mouth to object, but Gumball had already set the box in front of Laurance. His trembling hands found their way onto the counter, he looked up at the cashier with large pleading eyes.

"Can you please hurry, Larry?" The boy sounded desperate, Mr. Robinson huffed and stood to the side, waiting for the kid to finish his purchase.

Larry took the box in his hands and ran the scanner across it, quickly like Gumball insisted. The neon green numbers appeared on the digital screen shortly afterward displaying the price. "That'll be twenty five dollars," Laurence said in his usual cheerful demeanor.

Gumball reached into the pocket of his jacket and placed a heap of coins, and a couple crinkled up bills on the counter. Larry glanced at the cash and back at the feline with a lift of his eyebrow. Gumball's face remained as serious as before, neglecting to question it the cashier silently counted through. Gumball waited anxiously with baited breath, mentally counting the passing seconds, his hands folded firmly to his chest.

Mr. Robinson rolled his eyes. Great, another delay and reason for him to be stuck with all of these despicable people. Finally, after what seemed like decades Larry had finished his count, he pushed the cash to the side with a firm shake his head. "I'm sorry, you don't have enough. You're five dollars short."

It felt like a steam roller had rolled over Gumball and flattened him to the floor "w-what?" he squeaked. "No, I have to have these shoes" he argued, his eyes beginning to glaze over with tears.

"I'm sorry, you don't have enough," Larry repeated.

"You don't understand," he pleaded, his face began to tremble "I need them."

Larry pinched the area beneath his eyes and breathed a low sigh "there's nothing I can do, Kid. I'm sorry. Now please leave, you're holding up the line". He said it as politely as possible, but that didn't soften the hurt his words had inflicted on the boy.

Gumball felt as if the cashier had struck him across the face. He looked back up at him in disbelief and slunk away from the counter with a teary sniffle, his small shoulders lowered in defeat. The azure feline paused and stared down at the linoleum flooring, his forearm grasped tightly in contemplation. He closed his eyes trying to hide the tears stinging at them; it was a fruitless effort. Gumball's face crumbled and a sob escaped him, the tears came cascading down his cheeks. He dropped to the floor and began to sob into his hands.

Mr. Robinson observed the boy from where he stood, a hint of empathy scrawled into his face. He switched his gaze back to the box of shoes sitting on the counter, they must have been more important to the boy than he first thought. The old puppet left his post and walked over to the bawling child, careful not to startle him. He stood in silence, listening to Gumball's frantic hiccups and sniffles as he gasped from lack of air. He didn't really know what to say, never had he seen the poor boy so broken.

"I-I just wanted to make her last Christmas special," Gumball wept, aware of the older man's presence.

Mr. Robinson stiffened, he hadn't known the preteen acknowledged his presence, or what he was in hysterics about. As far as he was concerned it was only a box of shoes "what are you talking about?" he asked.

"My m-mom" Gumball sniffled, he lifted his head from his hands, and pulled his knees tightly to his heaving chest. "S-she's sick, Mr. Robinson. She has been for awhile."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mr. Robinson automatically spoke, he truly was.

Gumball breathed in through his nose and sighed, he wiped his face in the sleeve of his jacket. "I thought the shoes would make her smile, things haven't been easy for us, Mr. Robinson" he confessed. He sniffled again "with mom being sick she couldn't work, I've tried various jobs to make money. But I'm only twelve and there's only so much you can do, and so much you can be paid."

Mr. Robinson remained silent as his ancient mind mulled over what the boy had said. His eyes descended to the floor, now feeling the guilt of his previous thoughts directed towards the young Watterson. The guilt sat like a unsteady rock in his stomach; here he was griping about long lines and buying a gift for his wife when the poor child was struggling to keep his poverty stricken family going. He opened his mouth to say something, Gumball continued, unintentionally silencing his comment.

"Dad tries to help, but he can't keep a job. We had to sell most of our belongings just to get by" he shook his head sadly and eventually looked up at the old puppet. Mr. Robinson almost wished he hadn't, the look on the boy's face made him grimace. Gumball's clear, white eyes were now visibly red and burning with tears. The lights from above glinted off of the dried trails smeared across his dirtied fur which told him the boy had been crying before.

Gumball sniffled regaining his attention "what am I going to do, Mr Robinson? I don't know what to do" he dropped his head back into his hands, and proceeded bawling his eyes out. "I don't k-k what to do" he repeated it several times, growing more hysterical with each sniffle and cough.

It was a simple question, yet Mr. Robinson didn't know how to answer it. He wished he knew the answer, but he didn't. He adverted the sight of the wailing boy to the box of shoes now pushed to the side. There was one thing he could do for him however.

Mr. Robinson rested a hand on Gumball's shoulder. "Kid, dry your tears," he ordered "crying doesn't solve anything."

Gumball sniffled and wiped his red cheeks with the back of his hand, "I'm sorry," he sobbed.

Mr. Robinson shook his head "you don't need to apologize. Come with me," he grabbed his wrist, and walked him back to the counter where Felicity and Billy now stood. With a mighty push he shoved both mother and son out of the way.

Gumball kept his attention on the floor, waiting for the familiar beep from the scanner as his neighbor paid for his own gift. He wasn't sure why Mr. Robinson had brought him back here, was he angry about his line cutting?

The old puppet studied the preteen whom hadn't moved from his place. "Don't you still want your shoes?" he asked.

"I don't have enough," Gumball said, his crestfallen gaze remaining set on the floor. He had thought the statement was pretty obvious.

Mr. Robinson said nothing, he dug inside his pocket and planted a crisp five dollar bill on the counter. Gumball's ears twitched at the sound, he lifted his head and gasped, watching with wide eyes as Larry took the money and handed the old puppet the box sealed inside a plastic bag, which he then graciously gave to him.

Gumball stared down at the shoe box, mouth agape "I don't- I don't understand," he stammered.

"You need it more than I do"

Gumball kept his gaze on the content incased in the plastic bag. It took a second for his mind to register what the middle aged man had done for him. Once the shock had worn off Gumball wasted no time, he threw his arms around the old puppet's waist in the tightest hold he could fathom.

"Thank you," he cried, his grateful tears soaking Mr. Robinson's jacket. Mr. Robinson, caught off guard by this display of affection stared out at the baffled customers observing the two, his arms suspended in midair. Though hesitant at first he lowered them around the feline's small back. If that didn't surprise Gumball, than what he did next surely would; he felt his fur bristle from Mr. Robinson's warm breath as he whispered gently in his ear.

"Everything is going to be okay"

Gumball's sniffling quieted. He opened his eyes, keeping his wet cheek pressed against Mr. Robinson's warm jacket. Never had the grouchy neighbor said or done anything so kind, he didn't understand, he was even hugging him in his arms. Gumball loosened his grasp and reluctantly pulled his face from the fuzzy fabric. Looking up at the middle aged man he saw Mr. Robinson was smiling; not a cynical smile, but a benevolent one that made Gumball's crying insides feel warm and fuzzy.

Gumball wiped away the tears that collected in the corners of his sore eyes. He stared down at the pink shoe box in his hands "I'm sorry I got snot, and tears on your jacket."

Mr. Robinson waved his hand, brushing the minor incident off. "Don't worry about it, I'll just have Margaret wash it out."

Gumball nodded, though still feeling guilty.

"Now, get back to your mother. I'm sure she's wondering where you are. And Gumball?" his gruff voice changed to a softer tone. Gumball lifted his head expectantly "you're gonna get the flu" Mr. Robinson slid his scarf off of his broad shoulders and draped it around Gumball's small frame.

"Here, take it. It's making me itch anyway," he added with a grumble.

Gumball's studied the soft wrap, his numb fingers grazing across the smooth knitted snowflake print. He was speechless, Mr. Robinson had never parted with the scarf Margaret made for him.

"T-thank you, Mr. Robinson," he finally uttered.

"Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas, Kid". The old puppet saw a slight smile light up Gumball's face before he ran out through the automated doors and out into the chilly winter night. He shook his head feeling a small smile stitch across his face, somehow he felt that they were destined to cross paths that fateful night.

* * *

Gumball ran through the snow covered streets, holding the bag in one hand, and hugging the scarf to his freezing body with the other. The few residents on the streets wondered why he was in such a rush, but nonetheless silently cheered him on. Gumball cut through various yards and crawled under gates to find the shortest path home. The rough iron stung his skin, and tore open the partially repaired hole in his jacket, along with creating new tears in the process. The boy was resolute though; no freezing weather, or obstacle was going to slow him down.

Rounding another curve Gumball reached his street, he stumbled up the stone steps and threw open the door, knocking the wreath off of the hook. Gumball gulped in the air and shook the snow crystals from his jacket. The house was seemingly empty; no one was seated on the sofa watching television, no one was cooking in the kitchen. His sight fell on the corner of the room where a homely tree stood tall; bright bulbs dangling from the pine needle branches, it seemed rather lonely without anyone around to enjoy it.

Gumball knew they were all upstairs, like he had left them; Nicole didn't want to stay in a hospital, she had said that if she was going to die than she would in the comfort of her house. He sprinted up the stairs- forgetting to take off his jacket- and down the hall, coming to a halt outside of his parents bedroom. A sliver of light stretched across the carpet from behind the closed door.

Gumball braced himself for what he would see, fearing he was too late. He breathed in through his nose and turned the door knob. The door gave a squeak as it pulled back from the frame. His eyes immediately fell on Darwin who was sitting at the end of the bed, his head hung low. In the dim light Gumball could see a lone tear trailing down his oily skin. Anais laid a little further up, curled up beside her ailing mother, her eyes were closed albeit he could see the anguish in her little scrunched up face.

Next, Gumball turned his head towards Richard; the goofy father of the Watterson children was knelt beside his wife, holding her limp hand in his. His bright smile had morphed into a tremulous frown, tears freely leaked down from his black dotted pupils as he lamented the inevitable demise of his beloved.

Finally, Gumball saw Nicole; the mother laid underneath the sheets and blankets of the bed, barely breathing. Her ears had wilted, and her lively azure fur had turned a lighter blue. Wrinkles obstructed her once beautiful fur, lining her closed eyes and making her appear much older than she was. His eyes trailed down her face to the IV drip that was attached to her arm; he hated the infernal device, although Anais had told him it was vital to keep her longer. It had only delayed the inevitable, Gumball knew her time was running out.

He had held onto the tiniest morsel of hope that she would be better when he returned. All of it was swept away when he saw her, if anything she looked worse. Swallowing back the bulging lump in his throat Gumball forced his numbed leg to step forward, his foot falls the only sound in the quiet room. The family turned their attention towards him, Richard moved over, allowing him to stand beside her. Gumball set the bag down on the nightstand and turned back to the feline. She was so still, he feared she was already gone.

"M-mom?" he quivered.

Though she was on her death bed Nicole's maternal instincts were still very much alive. Hearing his breaking voice her eyes slowly opened, she reached a shaking hand out and stroked his cheek. Gumball closed his eyes feeling the tears come again, he tried with all of his might to keep them in.

"You're...here," she croaked tiredly.

Gumball nodded "I'm not going anywhere, mom" he sobbed, he reached inside the bag and revealed the pink box. The family watched motionlessly as he opened the lid and lifted a pair of shoes from the tissue paper; they were white, like her scarf. "I bought you these shoes," he held them out to her.

Nicole took them in her hands. She stared down at the beautiful shoes, examining the fine detail on the sides. A smile lit up her pale face "oh Gummypuss, they're...beautiful," she rasped.

"I thought you'd like them" Gumball replied, he shivered from the chill in the dank bedroom and rubbed his arms. "I-I wanted to give you your gift early, sorry I couldn't wrap it."

Nicole cupped his cheek with her trembling hand "I love...them" she held them out to him "will you...put them on...for me?"

Gumball looked into her dim, tired eyes; they had easily been drained of the strength and fear she could inflict. She didn't even have the strength to put the shoes on her feet, it made him want to cry; but he knew he couldn't, he wouldn't. Nicole stared at him expectantly, awaiting his answer. Gumball swallowed back his tears, nodding numbly at her request, Darwin moved to the side as his brother lifted the blankets and carefully slipped the shoes onto her feet.

Nicole admired the footwear with a frail smile "they fit...perfectly, and they're...just my size". She turned her head towards him "thank...you."

Gumball kept his gaze on the beautiful shoes, unable to look at her for if he did he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back any longer. "You-you look beautiful" he said quietly, he stood by her bedside stifling a sob, his black dotted eyes set on the floor. He knew he had to be strong for Anais and Darwin. He would have kept his facade if a small voice hadn't beckoned to him.

"...Gumball?"

Gumball lifted his head, looking at the one person who gave him life, whose life was now slipping away from her. His sore eyes met her's, Nicole wanted to tell him everything would be okay, she opened her mouth but no words came out. Her illness had stolen her body, and now her words.

She closed it again and instead reached her hand towards his, patting it reassuringly. Gumball continued to gaze upon her, the longer he stared at the fragile woman the more he felt his facade slip. Moisture began to build in his eyes, blurring her slim body. He angrily wiped them, scolding himself for feeling this way. A large hand touched his shoulder, he turned his head towards his father. Richard sent him an understanding look that told him it was okay. He had never seen his father so serious and wise.

Gumball adverted his gaze to the bedspread, a shaky breath escaped his small body. He could hold back no longer, the sudden realization that she was dying finally dawned on him. Finally allowing all of his pent up anger and sadness to crash down he hid his face in his hands and started to cry. This was all because of him; if he and Darwin hadn't caused the explosion at the Rainbow factory Nicole wouldn't have inhaled the toxic fumes that led to this. She assured them she was fine, and they believed her, it wasn't until a few months later when they began to notice something was amiss.

As Gumball cried Richard took Nicole's hand again and held it to his face, silent tears trailing down his chubby cheeks. Darwin and Anais bowed their heads as the room fell into lamentation, the only sound heard were the Carolers as they sung outside.

Nicole observed her family silently with a small frown, she didn't know what would happen to them when she was gone, and it honestly scared her. She was the glue that held them all together, she was the one who put food on the table and clothes on their backs. Richard didn't know how to do any of that, she wished he was more competent- at least able to take care of the kids.

The family had barely managed to pull through when she got sick, it was only because of Gumball that they did. She looked down the comforter with shame, he had to do a lot of growing up for his family. He was no longer the sweet innocent child she had known for so long.

Gumball, having finished the run of his tears noticed her look of self loathing. He grabbed her hand, she looked back at him "Mom, you don't have to worry about us" he assured. He dropped his gaze to his other hand resting firmly on the mattress, feeling his confident voice break "we'll be okay."

Maybe it was the fact that she was slowly passing into the light that brought her peace. Or maybe it was that she didn't want to spend her last moments worrying as she had done her whole life, but she believed him. Nicole tilted her head towards him and smiled softly.

"I...know"

"You do?"asked Richard, his ears sagging.

She nodded, and squeezed his hand "I...believe...in you, Richard. You...can...do...this."

Richard felt his heart deflate like a balloon. Tears brimmed in his eyes, he wrapped his strong arms around her frail body with a sob. Nicole nuzzled against his neck, relishing the warmth radiating from his large body. He pressed his forehead against her's "I love you, Nicole. I wish you didn't have to go. I'll make you proud, I promise."

Nicole closed her eyes, it was killing her to see him so distraught, she wished she could stay. She fought for as long as she could to stay with them, sadly her strength was deteriorating. She knew she was going to die, the doctors had confirmed that, and she accepted it. She just didn't realize how little time she had, or that things would go downhill so fast; one moment she was happily walking around feeling like she was the healthiest person in the world, and the next she could hardly stand.

A tear ran down her pale face "I love...you too, Richard," she said.

Richard gently wiped her tears away and kissed her trembling lips. They're last kiss, she didn't think it would happen until she was older, when they had grown old together after a full meaningful life, not here, not now on this night. Tonight of all nights her body had given up on her, she wanted to hold on a little longer, at least until Christmas; she couldn't leave her children on the most magical night of the year.

Nicole shifted her gaze to the feline, rabbit, and goldfish who were staring back at her, their eyes glazed over with fresh tears. "I...love you...kids so much," she croaked.

Darwin, who had stayed silent throughout the ordeal turned his crumbling face towards the window. He knew if he looked at her any longer he would break down. The fish watched mournfully as the fluffy snowflakes drifted by, hoping the serene atmosphere would keep his tears at bay. "Thank you for taking me in," he wept.

"Thank you...for letting me...be your...mother," Nicole replied wholeheartedly.

Anais stifled a sob at their tearful goodbye, she had done her best to stay strong for her mother, although with each heart wrenching word spoken between her family she felt herself breaking. She pressed her little plush donkey tighter against her chest. A sob left her small body and she nuzzled against the feline's side "I love you, Mom," she sobbed.

Nicole held her close "I love...you...too, sweetheart."

Richard, Darwin and Anais had said their goodbyes, Gumball knew it was his turn. He wiped his face in his torn sleeve, wishing the time had never come. "Y-you don't have to hold on any longer, Mom" he told her, his bright eyes somber.

Nicole tipped her head back on the pillow and feebly smiled down at him "my little...Gummypuss is all...grown up," she held her hand to his cheek and softly whispered to him.

"Take...care...of them...for me, okay?"

Gumball nodded "okay" he squeaked, he wiped away his tears and laid his head against her chest. The warmth from her frail body instantly slowed his shivers. Gumball closed his eyes feeling like he was a little boy again cradled in her loving embrace, just wanting be held and to hear her soothing voice one last time. He felt her soft fingers glide across his forehead as his shoulders shook from his quiet sobs.

"Thank you...for the...shoes, sweetie. I wish I...could walk...in them," Nicole mumbled.

The bitter tears coursed down Gumball's cheeks and onto her scarf, he squeezed his eyes tighter, wincing from the pain in his chest; as if he could physically feel his heart breaking. "It's okay, seeing you wearing them is enough," he returned tearily.

Nicole's fingers gradually slowed their trail through his fur until they stopped. Gumball could feel the steady vibrations of her heart slow more and more, he knew she didn't have much time. He pondered what he would say and finally it came to him.

Gumball chocked on the sob lodged in his throat for he knew these would be his last words to her "M-Merry Christmas, M-Mom."

He could see her smile from behind his closed eyelids, he knew they were the right words; she had always loved the holiday since she was a little girl. "Merry...Christmas..."

From outside on the snowy streets Penny and her little sister walked by in the flock of candle carrying Carolers. Amidst their joyous singing she noticed the yellow glow of a nearby window stretched across the snow in front of her. Penny knew which house it came from, she neglected her book of lyrics and looked up at the blue house. No sooner had she laid eyes on the frosted window pane the light visible from inside went out.

A frown took the place of her smile. Penny bowed her head, her glow dimming, she had known Gumball's mother was sick, almost everyone at Elmore Junior high did. Penny prayed she would get better. It pained her to see Gumball so torn up, he had tried to stay strong when around the others, and they bought his visage. But when it was just the two of them he would let the tears flow. He wasn't as strong as he appeared, he was only a boy dealing with the fact that his mother was dying and that there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it.

Penny had done everything she could to help through this difficult time, she even went to church with him and prayed. Sadly it seemed their prayers were unanswered, a few days before Christmas Eve Nicole took a turn for the worst, it just wasn't fair. A tear fell down her glowing cheek, the little peanut girl at her side looked up at her in confusion.

"What's wrong, Penelope?"

Penny turned her antlered head towards her concerned baby sister. Usually she would tell her not to call her by her full name, however this time she didn't, this time was different. It was at this moment that young Penny longed for the security of her shell; protecting her from all of the pain and hurt she felt and hiding her tears from everyone.

With a low sigh she brushed it away "nothing, Madison" she said. She took the child's hand in her's and continued down the side walk, her glowing skin dimming bit by bit as she walked.

* * *

 _December 25th, 2015_

Gumball watched the snow softly falling from the grey sky, his gangly arms dangling over his knees as he sat on the stone steps outside of the church. Gumball never did like church, or religion for that matter; his mother always had to fight to get him through the holy doors. When she got sick he found it was the only place he could turn to, somehow sitting in a lone pillar gave him hope. He often came to the building to just sit alone and dwell on his thoughts. He didn't have to keep up a brave front here; he could cry as much as he wanted, because no one was around to hear him.

A small sigh escaped his lips, it was Christmas morning; all over Elmore children were waking up to colorful parcels beneath their tree, but he felt no reason to be merry. All of those gifts meant nothing if he didn't have someone to enjoy them with, all he wanted was to curl into a ball and weep. But it seemed he had cried himself dry; all that remained was immense grief and aggrieving anguish that crushed his insides and every little ounce of spirit he had left.

Nicole was gone; no more hugs, no more kisses, no one to hold him when he cried, and wipe away his tears. No one to stand up for him when he felt too weak and powerless to, no one to encourage him in everything he did. She was simply gone.

Now, all he felt was empty and hollow, as if when she died a part of his soul died with her. The Watterson's were broken like a nearly complete puzzle without its last piece, and Gumball knew they would never find it.

He sighed again and adverted his sight from the dreary sky to the step beneath his bare feet, loosing himself in his pity. He didn't want to go home, he knew if he did she wouldn't be there and he would have to face the dismal truth. So, he snuck out whilst Darwin and Anais were opening what little gifts they had, with no intention of ever going back.

The wind had begun to pick up, and the cold snap nipped at his fur, but Gumball paid no mind, even as the wind flapped Mr. Robinson's scarf into his face. He just continued staring at the step, an impassive look on his young face. All was serene, on this day everyone was at home appreciating their time spent with their friends and loved ones. Only the ring of the church bells droned on in his wilted ears.

That was fine, he didn't feel like talking to anyone anyway.

Gumball's ears twitched, alerting him to the steps squishing through the snow. He lifted his head a minuscule to see a familiar set of boots standing in front of him. He slowly lifted his head further to view the person who had noticed him. Mr. Robinson stood in front of the preteen wearing the same attire he had the previous night. He observed Gumball silently through the square frames of his glasses.

"I figured you would be here," the old puppet finally spoke.

Gumball looked at the ground wordlessly as he lowered himself down and sat beside him. Mr. Robinson stared out at the quiet street with a wistful gleam in his eye, the two sat in silence; neither of them intending to end it. After a long, tense spell Gumball uttered the first sentence.

"How did you know I was here?"

Mr. Robinson turned his head towards the boy who remained slumped over in his position, his eyes never once leaving the ground. He leaned back and rested his gloved hands on his knees "well, your girlfriend came by earlier looking for you. She's really worried, you know" he informed him in a softer tone.

Gumball gave a indifferent nod. "I know."

"Anyway, she told me that you mostly stayed here at church, so that led me here," Mr. Robinson explained.

Another minute of silence ticked by before Gumball replied. "what are you doing here? I'm sure you have better places to be," he said bitterly.

Normally Mr. Robinson would call him out on his attitude, although this time he let it slide, the boy had just lost his mother; he had every right to be angry. "I'm sorry...about Nicole."

Gumball's shoulders heaved as he let out a sigh "it's okay, I guess. It's not your fault. I just wish she didn't get sick," he faced him wearing a solemn frown. "I keep asking myself why? Why did this happen to us? What did we do to deserve this?"

Mr. Robinson stared into the child's swollen, miserable eyes. He could easily conclude that Gumball cried all night and hadn't gotten much sleep, if any. His secluded sympathy lurched towards the miserable child and his hand found its place on the feline's small shoulder.

"You didn't do anything, kid. These things just happen"

"I wish they didn't, Mr. Robinson" Gumball confessed, his attention set back on his feet. "I've gone through my whole life with the false belief that we all lived in this amazing world. But, now I see I was wrong to believe that, there's nothing amazing about it. Bad things happen, people die, it only took until now for me to finally realize that."

Mr. Robinson sat back and blinked, never had he ever heard words of such negativity spew forth from the mouth of his plucky neighbor. It appeared he was looking in a mirror; the surly frown, the glazed look in his eyes, Gumball was turning into the cranky neighbor himself. Mr. Robinson had dreamed of this moment for a long time, but now that it had finally come to pass he actually found himself dare he say, missing the child's annoying antics.

The puppet hunched forward and clasped his hands together, once again eying Gumball. "Kid, while that is true, there are still good things in life. Take Christmas for example; every year people set aside their differences to celebrate this holiday. Even I'm here talking to you, when ordinarily I would be sitting in my home arguing with Margaret."

Gumball remained silent, for the longest time Mr. Robinson didn't think he was going to say anything. "I guess you're right about that" he replied slowly "why are you here anyway?" he asked again. A sudden thought occurred to him "it's about your money, right?". He plunged his numb hand into the pocket of his jacket and dug around for anything he could give him. Before he could pull his change out a hand grasped his arm and pulled it back, he looked up at the puppet's emotionless face.

"Keep your money, don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" Gumball wondered hesitantly. "It's only fair".

Mr. Robinson shook his head "keep it, just consider it as my gift to you," he squeezed his shoulder with a smile "Merry Christmas."

Gumball stared back at him with a blank look on his face, slowly a smile made its way across "thank you...for everything, Mr. Robinson. Those shoes brought a smile to Mom's face, I haven't seen that in awhile," he informed sadly.

Mr. Robinson shook his head "no, thank you, Gumball"

Gumball lifted an eyebrow, giving the man an incredulous look. "For what?" he asked, "I didn't do anything."

The old puppet smiled down at him. "For showing this old man that there's more to this holiday than shopping and gouging yourself and others in gifts. You made me realize that it's the little things in life that matter, and to always cherish and hold them close to your heart. So, thank you, Gumball."

Gumball's mouth fell open, rendered speechless by the middle aged man's kind words; never in a million years had he thought Mr. Robinson, the grouch would ever cite such words.

"Y-you're welcome," he managed to utter.

The preteen stared back down at his feet, another second passed before he stood up and walked down the church steps.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Robinson asked.

Gumball turned around "home," he answered with a little smile. He turned back to the street, and resumed his stride. About half way down the sidewalk he glimpsed over his shoulder, and waved to the puppet.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Robinson."

Mr. Robinson stood on the steps, watching as Gumball's form grew smaller and smaller. For the longest time he had forgotten the true spirit of Christmas; he had taken everything he had for granted, that was until he crossed paths with his young neighbor that Christmas Eve. From that encounter he had discovered the true meaning; love, generosity, compassion. For as long as Mr. Robinson would live he would never forget the smile on Gumball's face from the kindness he gave to him that fateful night. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth and chuckled to himself with a shake of his head.

"Merry Christmas, Gumball Watterson."

Sometimes we lose our way and forget what's important to us, the little things can help us remember; the sound of children laughing, the first flake of snow for the season, even a pair of shoes.

* * *

 _ **AN**_ : Well, I hope my little cliche has gotten you into the Christmas spirit, if you weren't already. Also, since the name of Penny's sister hasn't been revealed yet, I decided to name her for the purpose of this story.

Merry Christmas!


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